NOVEL NEXT Chapter 67: The resources
It had been two days since Nyxander's spar with Kal, and for those two days, he had sequestered himself within his residence, diligently attempting to refine his authority over the elusive Void Law. Yet, despite his relentless effort, progress seemed like a mirage, distant and intangible.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, his posture was one of quiet frustration. His upper body, bare and glistening under the daylight that sneaked through the slightly ajar window, reflected his chiseled build, a testament to his years of training. His blue trousers clung to his legs, the fabric rippling faintly as he adjusted his position. Nyxander's deep-set eyes opened, breaking the stillness of his meditative practice. He exhaled heavily, his jaw resting thoughtfully between his right index and middle fingers, his brows furrowed.
"Hm," he murmured, his voice low and contemplative. "I've been stuck at this level of Void bending ever since I left home. Why is manipulating the fabric of space so infuriatingly difficult?" His words hung in the air like a shadow, heavy with introspection.
For his race, mastery over cosmic laws should come as naturally as breathing, provided one had a rudimentary understanding of their mechanics. Yet, for him, it felt as though an invisible barrier stood between him and the void, severing the connection he so desperately needed. "Whenever I try to expand my use of the Void Law, it feels… as if something vital is missing. My link to the void feels weak. And it shouldn't be." His voice dropped into a whisper, his words tinged with self-doubt.
The silence stretched, broken only by the occasional rustling of the wind outside. As he mulled over his predicament, a resolve slowly crystallized in his mind. "Perhaps… if I return home, this might get resolved." His voice barely rose above a breath, the thought offering a glimmer of hope amidst the fog of frustration.
Before he could dwell further, a sharp knock echoed through his residence, jolting him out of his reverie. The sound tugged at his memory, reminding him of the day's significance. His eyes widened in realization. "Oh, seriously. Did I just forget about today's program?"
Springing to his feet, he reached for his top, hurriedly pulling it over his head before striding toward the door. His steps were quick, yet his mind lingered on the earlier practice, his thoughts half-formed and restless. Gripping the door handle, he twisted it open with an apologetic smile already forming on his lips. "Sorry, Lumina. I was a bit carried..."
The words died in his throat as his eyes met an unexpected figure. Beorn stood there, his expression calm yet tinged with subtle amusement.
"Are you disappointed that it's me?" Beorn asked, his tone light but teasing, as though reading Nyxander's surprise like an open book.
"Ha… no, not at all," Nyxander replied hastily, scratching the back of his head with his right hand, his face a blend of embarrassment and surprise. Eager to shift the topic, he added, "You must be here to bring me, right?"
Beorn nodded, his expression steady. "Yeah, I was instructed to fetch you."
Without further delay, Nyxander stepped out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The two began walking down the stone-paved walkway, their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet district.
As they passed through the bustling streets, Nyxander couldn't help but notice the attention he garnered. Passersby turned their heads, offering congratulatory nods or stopping to hail him with enthusiastic cheers. Merchants and shopkeepers called out his nickname, their voices ringing with admiration.
"Phantom Altruist!" one shouted, waving energetically.
"Great spar the other day! Truly remarkable!" another added, clapping his hands together in praise.
The constant acknowledgment felt both flattering and overwhelming. Nyxander's steps faltered slightly each time the chorus of voices grew louder, his face flushing with a mixture of pride and discomfort. He offered polite nods and faint smiles, though his posture betrayed his unease.
Beorn, walking beside him, chuckled softly at Nyxander's reaction. "You don't seem used to this, do you?" he said, his voice laced with amusement.
Nyxander rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not really," he admitted, his tone carrying a faint edge of humility. "It's… different."
And so, the duo continued their journey, navigating the labyrinth of streets. With every turn they made, the district seemed to grow livelier, the crowd swelling, their cheers cascading around Nyxander like waves against the shore. Yet, amidst the clamor, his thoughts wandered back to the void, its mysteries still tugging at the edges of his mind as he tried to avoid being recognized any further, Nyxander quickened his pace, his footsteps carrying him away from the growing crowd of admirers.
As the echoes of their cheers began to fade, a fragment of Lumina's words resurfaced in his mind, sharp and clear like a bell ringing in the stillness of his thoughts.
"In two days, the Astro official gathering will take place."
His throat tightened as his eyes widened, the weight of those words suddenly pressing against him like an important revelation he had nearly forgotten. He inhaled sharply and turned to Beorn, his voice cutting through the steady rhythm of their steps.
"Ha... Beorn," he called, his tone laced with urgency.
"What is it that seems to trouble you?" Beorn replied, glancing briefly at Nyxander before returning his gaze to the path ahead, his steps unfaltering.
"What's so special about today's gathering?" Nyxander inquired, his curiosity piqued and his tone more focused.
Beorn tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Oh, I forgot. You're new to this system," he said, his voice calm yet tinged with amusement. "Today's gathering marks the allocation of resources brought to our station. They're distributed among the four Astro Stations."
"Resources?" Nyxander echoed, his interest deepening.
"Yes," Beorn continued, his voice now adopting a more explanatory tone. "There are two primary types of resources that are distributed: money, which is the Fate Coins you're already familiar with, and pills."
"Pills?" Nyxander's curiosity was now palpable, his brows knitting together as he sought further explanation.
Beorn nodded, his steps steady as he began to elaborate. "The pills are created using primordial blood fluids, a substance as rare as it is potent. They are divided into three types. First, there's the Primordial Vitalis, the vitality pill used for healing both internal and external injuries. Then comes the Primordial Surge, a pill designed to replenish lost energy and even expand the user's energy core. Finally, there's the Primordial Ascendium, which enhances and lightens the body, making it more agile and resilient."
Nyxander listened intently, his thoughts churning with every word.
"And these pills," Beorn continued, "are further graded into four stages. The first stage is Grade 1: Raw Bloodbound. At this stage, there's minimal reduction of the blood's violent nature, making the pill potent but unstable. Next is Grade 2: Refined Essence, where the blood's violent energy is balanced and the pill is reliable for most users. Then comes Grade 3: Purity Core, where the violence is significantly reduced, rendering the pill highly effective and stable. Finally, there's Grade 4: Ethereal Prime, the highest grade, where the blood's violent nature is entirely removed, achieving optimal results with no risk of instability."
Beorn paused, taking a moment to catch his breath. As he glanced at Nyxander "These people have exploited the primordial race, reducing them to mere resources for their own gain." Nyxander muttered in his mind. Beorn noticed a distant look in his companion's eyes, a faint shadow of rage flickering across his face like a storm brewing on a calm horizon.
"Nyxander, what's wrong?" Beorn asked, his tone laced with concern.
Snapped out of his silent reverie, Nyxander turned to him and shook his head, his expression neutralizing. "Nothing," he replied, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. To deflect further questions, he raised another inquiry. "Why is it necessary to reduce the violent nature of the primordial blood? And doesn't that reduction affect the pill's quality?"
Beorn stroked his chin thoughtfully before responding. "The primordial race is known to possess the purest form of energy in the entire cosmos. But this purity comes at a cost, it's too potent, too pure, and therefore inherently unstable. Its violent nature makes it dangerous; taken raw, it could inflict severe internal injuries or, in the worst cases, cause the user to explode. That's why the blood's violent nature must be reduced."
He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before addressing the second part of Nyxander's question.
"As for the pill's quality," Beorn continued, "in normal circumstances, reducing something's property would diminish its efficacy. But primordial blood is different. Its purity is absolute, containing no impurities to lose. Even when its violent energy is tempered, the core essence remains intact, ensuring the pill retains its unparalleled potency."
Nyxander nodded slowly, his mind absorbing the explanation while his eyes remained forward, fixed on the looming structure ahead. The North Astro Lord Hall stood in the distance, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows across the path. As they approached, the air grew heavier with anticipation, the weight of the day's significance settling over them like a shroud.